


Medjack In Training

by seokjinsworld



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fever, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Glader Slang, He is grumpy, Light Angst, Love, POV Third Person, Romance, Sassy Minho, Sick Character, Stomach Ache, gotta do what ya gotta do, minho is sick bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seokjinsworld/pseuds/seokjinsworld
Summary: The Keeper of the Runners happens to get sick and is taken care of by his Medjack girlfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got injured at a sleepover by being pushed by accident against a table edge and it hit in the center of my back. I manage to sit at this broken wheeled chair as always, making this little drabbles and scenarios because my ass is loyal to the MinhoxReader fandom. lmao 
> 
> Literally, my work space is a really old desk that's been in my family for more than 20 years and it's not even that special, it's some desk that belonged to my older brother. I have many wires that hook up my laptop to this big monitor (It's supposed to be my actual new computer but I can't afford a fuckin' wifi wire to pass through my house yet to get it to work), there is a count of like.. 5 wires, long as shit, btw. I have way too much papers and notebooks I write on to jot down ideas and since I study Korean and math from school, I have bilingual/academic stuff going on, it's just hectic. Pls. My aesthetic atm is a crazy boy who lives off coffee and snacks to keep up with education and being a writer. 
> 
> I broke the D key on my laptop. Don't question it. I know it sounds bad; I broke the D. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Minho and her were snuggled comfortably on the wide hammock, their arms and legs tangled in passion and their breaths passing slowly through their noses and mouths. His was broken in certain areas, his discomfort rising as time passed in the night. He was restless, shifting or moving his angle of his head to stay cool. She thought maybe it was her body heat she radiated to him that made him grumpy but something was internally wrong with him. 

He rarely got sick, according to Alby or Newt who stuck to him like glue. They were in charge of everyone's health as much as well being when it came to exhaustion or overworking themselves and Minho either held it in or was physically immune to colds or the flu. 

This time was different, he couldn't hold it back and he was having a cold sweat in his own sleep. This wasn't like him. His eyes were crinkled in irritation, clearly showing he wasn't able to mask the sensations pulsing through his head and body. He was truly sick and this couldn't have been faked to flake out on Running in the Maze. He was brave as ever, and he'd be shucked to hear someone call him a coward. 

He whined lightly under his breath, his headache was growing strong and he couldn't get rid of it. He would see stars cross his vision when he opened them to see his girlfriend stare at him in concern. 

"Minho.." She hushed worriedly, eyebrows knit together and reaching to touch his sweaty skin. 

He snatched her wrist before she could touch him and he swallowed hard. "I'm fine. I'm sleeping it off."

"Don't be a shuck face." She hissed at his stubbornness then tugged on his hold. He was adamant about not letting anyone know he was this way and he held in a cough that was bubbling to the surface, his face scrunching up in frustration. "Let me see if you have a fever. It's too early in the morning and I want to see if you'll be able to get dressed for later."

"Go back to sleep, babe." He mumbled, eyes closing once more to ignore her words. He still held her hand to make sure she didn't touch him, even when she was trying to pull her hand back. "Like I said, I'm fine. I have to Run no matter what."

Pursing her lips, she let herself have to be defeated. "Let go of my hand. I won't touch you."

His fingers loosened and she hesitatingly tucked her hands into her chest, watching his face closely. The sweat was surely going to go through his pajamas and she couldn't handle seeing him in pain like this. It was something he'll never admit, to be vulnerable and weak to anyone, not her, for eternity either. 

 

He barely slept until the time came to get dressed and not stir his girlfriend, debating on whether or not to kiss her head goodbye. He decided to not spread his germs, looking around the sleeping quarters then getting up carefully with a grunt. His head pounded and he cradled it in a palm, his hands definitely clammy. His legs slightly dangled above the floor until he stood, dizzy as anything and willing himself to walk in a straight line. 

Sluggish with his movements, he went to do his bathroom business elsewhere, fixing up his hair and rolling his shoulders. He could tell by how his joints and muscles were dragging on, that he wouldn't last an hour or more in the Maze later. His shirt was baggy on him along with his pants, his eyes not able to open completely. He pulled on some boots to go to the Runner building that was built consecutively for the changing of their clothes and held the supplies needed for their survival. 

From where he sat on his wooden stool, he could see the outline of her chest going up then down in steady paced breathing, unaware that he was going against her inner wishes to not worsen his state. Rubbing his eye with his index and middle finger subtly, he sniffled. "Sorry." He said aloud, whether she could hear it or not was unknown. 

Lacing up the thin laces lazily, he licked his chapped lips for a moment then trudging along the grass and dirt alike to change into his Runner gear. 

He reached the building in time for Ben to follow from behind, his thoughts not being on if Minho was up for his job, changing alongside him. He sniffled in intervals in under a half hour and Ben was starting to give him suspicious glances here and there. 

"You good, Minho?" He asked softly, his chest piece clicked in place. 

"Yeah." He bent his head to look at the buttons that belonged to his pants, running the zipper up too. "Don't worry about me, man."

"Alright, bro." Ben at least didn't harp on it unless it was serious, and he got his knife to be put in it's holster, nonchalant about the situation. 

Minho did his best to ignore a certain throbbing at the front part of his brain, his forehead beading with sweat like earlier. Shuck. He wiped it away quickly with his wrist then got the wrist wraps to protect his skin from getting marred on the concrete walls of the Maze if they needed to climb, wincing in the meanwhile. "We'll be mapping section 3."

"We did that yesterday, are you sure you're not done with it?"

"Then we can do section 4." He murmured, having forgotten completely that he finished section 3. 

Ben didn't have a problem with his memory being scattered, raising an eyebrow instead to Minho's hunched form over the table that was littered with the accessories he had to add to his outfit. He knew he needed a minute to collect himself and he gestured to the door. "I'll wait for you by the Gate. I'm done."

"Okay, I'll be there in a sec." The Korean mustered up his courage to get himself together, shaking his hands out in the air to get them to not clench up, listening to the door creak shut after his exit. He leaned against the table with a longing sigh and saw how he was going to regret this decision for Running while sick. He felt his head curiously and to be honest, he was burning up and his face was probably paled. 

He went to go with Ben and he jogged to him, the jog though being draining in itself. "Let's go." He ordered, his footsteps thudded with his friend inside the Maze, his lip being bitten to stifle a couple of coughs. 

 

* * *

 

 

An hour passed and she was waking up for her mandatory duties of being a Medjack, her attitude about it being cheery. On the other hand of her jovial emotions, Minho was out doing whatever he usually does despite his fever and stuff. She was being taught on how to properly bandage limbs and tips of how to do CPR from Clint and Jeff, the books they were given to learn from WICKED upon request through the Box. 

She was told to read a couple of chapters that were more important for their living arrangements, being in a Glade where they established rules weren't too harmful and no one was allowed to kill anyone, so some chapters didn't matter. She roamed and skimmed the pages respectfully, her eyes squinted and her hand holding her head up by it being under her chin. She sat on one of the Medjack's beds that were covered with blankets, so it was comfortable. 

She wasn't sure if she was allowed to do this, but she marked sentences that would stick with her the most, pulling a piece of her hair and twirling it in boredom. 

She wondered how Minho was feeling. Was he dreading his actions? Was he drinking enough? Did he even eat this morning? She asked Frypan if he saw him but he said no and went back to serving the hungry Gladers, so she was out of luck for answers to her questions. She rolled her eyes at herself; she needs to worry about whats going on with right now, since Minho favored for her to not dwell on his health so often now that she was going to be a Medjack soon. 

She was a bit tired from waking up not too long ago, her fists playfully pushing on both sides of her face. "My gosh. I need to stay awake. I need to study and everything."

Jeff popped his head out in urgency from the entrance of the Medjack hut. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but Minho fainted or something in the Maze! Prepare the bed!" He was frantic; the boy snatching the book from her to put it away. "Come on! He might be stung!"

"Stung? What?" Her face was incredulously gazing at Jeff. He wouldn't have gotten stung.. He's too skilled for that. But then again; it might be true. This wasn't good. "You only want me to prepare a bed for a 'possible' stung patient?"

"Do it, he'll have to be held down if he is!" His face showed he wasn't kidding and he rushed out to go back to the Gates of the Maze, her hands dropping on her lap in confusion. If he said he fainted, then how does that equal to be stung? Ben must have not been with him by the time that he was on the ground or something, that time sequence is off. 

 

She went out to the see boys huddling around the far distance of the Glade, nearly toppling over one another to see Newt and Ben carrying Minho by his arms around their shoulders and having to stand him upright. They were asking if he got stung or if he was alright in general, but Minho was indefinitely not going to answer, he was as limp as noodles. 

She held the door open for them to bring him in when they got close enough and they got him on the bed, Ben was startled and Newt wasn't surprised in the slightest, he looked disappointed. "I know you guys have been asked this question a few times by now, but have any of you checked him to see if he got stung? What did you see, Ben?"

She was inquisitively asking them yet she was calm, Newt backing up to let her palpitate on some parts of his body, testing his muscles to see if he hurt anywhere in particular. His head was bleeding, but that was probably from his fall. 

"I saw him on the ground, he said he needed to check a route we haven't done before.. Uhh.." He was trying to string a sentence together, his hands on his hips while staring down at his half awake companion. "Then when I was going to ask him if he needed me to shred up a vine to track our way, he was on the ground and his head was bleeding. I heard Grievers in the distance, but.. I guess we got out of there in time." 

"I see.. So he must have fainted, no Griever's were seen on the premises and that confirms it for me that he's overworked." She informed him and Newt was continuing his quietest passive scene. 

Minho was prodded on his head experimentally and he hissed in reflex, his head turning to avoid the intruding hand. She frowned and craned his head to face her, the blood on his temple came from hitting the ground too hard. "He hit head first.. Shuck. I'll need Jeff to help me with the tools or he'll have to do this."

"You just started, didn't you?" Newt was not in the mood for this examination, he crossed his arms and he wanted to see Minho better. "We don't have time for you to touch him and say things."

"Well this is going to take time, I have to make a proper diagnosis." She retorted; her nose flaring in impatience. "Get out if you don't want to hear what I have to say. He's still my lover and I don't want to shuck this up."

"Can you check the upper half then, to confirm he isn't stung?"

"The symptoms of being stung is rather odd at the moment, and you've been here longer than me, Newt. He isn't showing any signs. Look." She tugged his shirt up none too gently and she narrowed her sights at the British teenager. "See? He isn't stung."

"He isn't? Thank goodness." Jeff walked in at the right time, the aid kit in hand and laying it out on a side table. "Move, I'll take care of it."

Adjusting his shirt to go back over his exposed torso, she was gingerly biting her nail, letting him clean up the gash on his head. Ben was nervous as anything, jittery and looking from Newt to her and back to Minho on the bed. He helped get his legs and his figure on the center of the bed, feeling as if this was his fault for not looking after him. 

"It isn't your fault." She mentioned, noticing his body language was making her guilty, she didn't know what else to say. 

"I'll be going to repeat this to Alby. What was his diagnosis, doc?" Newt turned to her bitterly; eyes facing the ground. 

"He is sick, that's all. Fever and mild concussion maybe, based on the bruise that will be quite peachy on his head. He isn't stung. Okay?"

"Got it. I'll check up on him if he's going to be resting after this. Come with me, Ben, since you're the witness. Wouldn't want Alby to have a stroke." He eyed the four of them then left, Ben following soon when he beckoned him with a hand. 

Jeff was checking Minho's pulse by his wrist, the watch on his hand counting how many times it beat on his fingertips in a matter of time. Minho was restless, his cold sweat coming in again and he was groaning, putting an arm over his stomach. "Stomach.. Hurts."

"It hurts? Where?" She came to his side opposite of Jeff and pried his arm from his gut, her face concentrating on his zones of hurt. "There?"

"Yeah.. Inside."

"You probably have a stomach virus or bug.. No big deal. We have medicine for that."

"I'll make sure you drink loads of water, Minho." Jeff grumbled. "Based on flushing out the sickness from your system, water does wonders. You'll have to eat in small bits."

"I can't think of food, right now, Jeff." He blinked at him lowly, his girlfriend stuffing a pillow under his neck to get Jeff a better look at the mark. The tip of his sterile instrument was cleaning the blood, the burn of it making him flinch away. "Ow!"

"You have to stay still." She chided, cupping his chin and getting him to obey. "Knock it off."

"Everything hurts."

"You shouldn't have went in, you slinthead." She huffed at him and he gave a tiny whimper at the onslaught of peroxide and ointment to his temple. "You have to be careful with everything you do.. Next time you get sick, don't think of it as a bad thing. We all get sick."

"Everyone depends on me to get us out of here, that's kind of hard to do." He didn't intend on glowering at either of them, but he was. 

"Oh hush. That's not what one person should hold on their shoulders. It's not important in this minute, we need to get you better." She was stubborn with this; massaging his shoulder and arm to relax him. He endured the bandage being attached, the tape pressed lightly on the sides. 

"I'll give you a shot on painkillers to get you to rest without interruptions, dude. Hold on." Jeff was preparing the syringe, while she was getting Minho's boots off. 

"I hate shots." Minho growled; avoiding the sounds of the liquid being sucked in the needle. The dispenser alone was something he despised. She petted his hair and made him gaze at her instead of the wall, caressing his cheekbone. 

"I think you shouldn't make a fuss, Minho. It's a shot."

"Still- Nngh." The shot was administered when he spoke on purpose, his eyes going into slits. 

"Jeff." She was in disbelief at Jeff for his work and he gave a chuckle. 

"Hey, it worked, didn't it." He smirked and stood to pack up the kit, throwing away the bloody Q-Tips and cap up the bottle of cleaning solution. 

"True." She focused back to Minho and he was letting the effects kick in, his drowsiness twice fold. "Sleep and I'll make sure you get some food later."

"Great." He was short of words and she patted his chest slightly with reassurance, looking over his frame and drugged expression. His eyebrows finally let up of tension, and his color of skin remained of dullness, his hand flattening on his shirt. "I hope I have a good dream."

"Shh." She shushed him imminently, seeking for Jeff's approval to bring the blankets on him however it wasn't appropriate due to his fever. 

 

* * *

 

 

He had went right to sleep; and she resumed her studying, sitting on the next hospital bed to keep an eye on him in case he was in need of something crucial, her flipping of pages and jotting down notes on the paper on her thigh being the only thing she did for the day. Hours had flown by like it was nothing, Clint having patched up a teen who got cut in the Blood House, and Jeff got a sling to go around a boy's arm and shoulder blade because he fell off a ladder while constructing a new watch tower with the Builders. 

She was told to not study at the times that the boys who were injured or sick would come in, to watch and learn the ways of tending to them and having supervision if she was taught how to treat these types of things. She genuinely felt for the Glader community, how hard they all work and she'd glance at the Korean against the side of the hut, getting his beauty sleep and coughing up a storm if he turned on his side to sleep in an angle. 

He had frequent cold sweats and refused the water Jeff would give him, as if he was going to vomit and they had to have one of the buckets from the barn be placed near his bed in case he did. He was wide awake but feeling like klunk at the same time, and Jeff immediately took water and food to him, but all her boyfriend would do was shake his head and clutch his stomach for dear life. 

"Does water trigger the gag reflex?" She questioned Jeff when he's pushing the tin cup of water to Minho's cinched lips. He really didn't want to drink it. 

"Mm!" Minho jerked his head to the side and he ended up giving up, putting it down patiently. 

"Minho, bro.. You have to have something in your system."

"I can't, Jeff.. I'll vomit if I do."

"You don't know that. And no, I don't think so. I think he has the inkling that it will. We won't know unless he ingests it but he's being.. This way."

Minho's groan resounded and he slumped on the bed, his sitting up position having migrated to laying halfway against the pillows. "I'll wait until it dies down. I promise I'll eat something later."

"It's almost 9 at night and you haven't eaten anything. You haven't had a drop of water either." She countered; sitting by his leg and kneading his thigh, leaning to him in seriousness. "You'll be sick longer if you don't try."

"Sips, is all you can manage. Which is okay, take your time."

"I never have time for anything, Jeff." He gloomily remarked; taking the tin cup and staring at it's clear contents. He could already feel his mouth water up and he looked disgusted with himself. 

"Don't think about throwing up and maybe you'll be able to get it down."

"I have to hit the hay, guys. You can have the night shift with him and get him to eat. He loves you, after all." Jeff yawned, rubbing the back of his neck. "See ya." 

"Bye." They both said in unison. 

They were alone and he didn't drink the liquid, nursing it in his lap. "This sucks."

"Indeed." 

"The drugs helped."

"How so?"

"My body doesn't hurt as much as it did.. But my stomach hurts and I'm sweating like I ran the whole Maze for days."

Laughing at his analogy, she reached and dipped a washcloth in a tub of water to clean him, rolling her sleeves up. "You should get undressed then, I'll give you a bath."

"Oh no.. No, no, no. You're not giving me a shucking bath."

"Why not?" She sassed him, pouting. 

"I can wash myself."

"Knock it off with your pride, Minho. It's not like I've never seen you naked."

He grimaced at her ways of persuasion, though he wasn't aesthetically pleasing with his sheen of sweat coating his body all over. "True. Very true."

"You act like it's not right for me to take care of you." She rolled the cloth in her palms and squeezed to let droplets out, to not have it drenching. "Take off your shirt. If you can't do that, I'll do it."

He silently did as she said, getting his shirt up and off of his body, it was as if it was clinging to his skin. He had tiny scars in spots she always liked to kiss and stroke, and she secretly liked that his abs showed more when he was taught around that area. he undid the wraps on his wrists, putting that on top of the pile of clothes, pausing when it came to his pants. 

"Why did you stop?"

"Do I _have_ to take them off?" 

"There's no one else in the room besides you and me."

"Jeff could come in again."

"I doubt it."

"Clint-?"

"He goes to bed earlier than Jeff. Nope."

"Alby? Newt?"

"Don't be silly. Minho, don't stall. You're going to soak the bed."

"I'll keep my underwear on."

"It's not like I want to suck you off in the Medjack facility, babe-"

"Shuck it.." He interjected; not wanting her to finish the sentence. He got his pants off by pushing himself against the bed and raising his hips, letting them pool at his ankles and kicking them to go with his shirt and gear. Even his calf with his holster for his knife was taken off, the little indents on his tan skin making her giggle. 

"We forgot you had gear, my bad."

"Nah, it's all good." He didn't mind that he didn't get to strip into patient attire for the Medjacks, since he wasn't in critical condition. Bath time was initiated; he got back against the pillows and sheets, awkwardly putting his arms down and waiting for her. She ran the cloth on his face, wiping away the sweat and holding his bangs back so they didn't get wet. 

"You know I love you this much, to do this."

He merely gazed at her for that comment and he had to close one eye from her dragging the fabric gently on that portion of his face, the sweat being cleaned up with ease. She cleaned his cheeks then his neck, being fair and precise to release his stress. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me, Minho.. This is my job." 

"I meant thanks.. In.. That way."

"Still no need to thank me." She adamantly said and swathed the wash cloth in the tub of water, bringing it to his chest this time to swipe at his collarbone then down his pectoral muscles. "You're my boyfriend and a patient at the same time, and it's equivalent that I see you healthy."

"There you go, talking like a doctor with a degree." He scoffed teasingly, and he rolled his eyes at her. "It's not like I'm going to die."

"It could happen, and sometimes your bravery gets in the way of that."

"Or I don't like to chicken out at the opportunity in front of me." 

"It's not chickening out, it's being logical." This is what they did when it came to having a conversation and their personalities clashed like a cat fight, but in talking by itself. He was like a puppy when he hurt her feelings though and she appreciated his effort to be a little thoughtful to her not being just like him. 

"Whatever you say."

She pinched his nipple and he yelped, his chest keening to her rough touch. 

"Ah! Let it go!" 

"Apologize."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

She snickered and released the nub that hardened, his hand coming up to rub the throbbing skin. "That's for how you were this morning. I could have done worse, but since you're not feeling good, I'll refrain."

"Shuck face." He hissed playfully at her whilst his hand was soothing his nipple, nose wrinkling. "Abusing a sick patient. How barbaric."

"That's a new one." She went along with this; totaling the bath with his sides and fore arms, then putting the cloth in the dirty basin. "Give me your hands."

He gave them to her and she held them in hers delicately, touching his knuckles then the slender digits, the valley of his veins coaxing her soul with how real he is. She grinned to herself yet he couldn't see it clearly, his chin touching his own shoulder in order to see it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I love you." Her hands clasped around his to exceed her expectations of him healing up from the inside out, kissing the tops of his hands. "You don't know what I feel for you at times."

"I love you too. Why are you kissing my hands and not this handsome face?"

"If it's to get me sick and out of duty so we can make out on Medjack beds.." She couldn't believe he was asking for a kiss while being a mess. 

He sniffed through his stuffy nose and he shrugged. "And?"

"You're such a needy patient, I tell you." She decided to give him a kiss, and he smiled into it, putting their hands together like puzzle pieces. They were made for each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> ^^ Enjoy!~


End file.
